Happy Holiday
by hummingbirds2
Summary: What if Amy's relationship with Sheldon doesn't mature physically? An angsty Amy Farrah Fowler looks to the future and comes up with a plan. A Promo Ficlet for the Against The Clock Challenge hosted by Random*Fandom. Mature themes. Dark Humour.


**Promo ficlet for Random*Fandom - Against The Clock Writing Challenge**

**Closing submission date: 31 December 2013 - all fandoms welcome :-)**

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**Happy Holiday**

Amy's biological clock ticked. It might even have thrown in a tock for good measure, just to show how healthy it was.

But Amy wasn't fooled.

She could almost hear its rhythmic beat weakening, faltering, her fertile years fading into the long goodnight that was a post-menopausal womb. Soon, her aged eggs, useless and decrepit, would sit perched in a great obsolescence, never venturing forth to feel the warmth of a fulsome fallopian descent or, upon landing, the buoyant bounce of a lush womb-wall. Stuck in their ovarian tomb, not one of her mouldering ova would feel the euphoria of a fast, hard penetration by their male counterparts, those spunky spermatozoa.

Amy pictured these spurted–out, sexual torpedoes racing for their prize, swimming faster and faster into the great unknown, until one, the most perfect and powerful, on sighting the target plunged right on in, head first, to fulfil its destiny, as two became one. One new life!

Amy sighed and shook her head a little. She didn't know when she'd started to feel this need-for-speed with regard to procreation. CT-scanning her own brain, not once but twice, hadn't yielded any neurological indicators to suggest disease. "A-Okay," the scans said! But it wasn't! She wasn't! Her biological clock was ticking and her female follicles knew it, even if her grey matter didn't.

Over the speaker system, an announcement, warning of the imminent closure of the store for the day, only served to remind Amy that time was indeed passing ... all the time. This, in turn, reminded Amy of her mission. As the Happy Holiday track resumed, she eyed the interesting-looking devices laid out on the store's shelves. It didn't take long to spot her target. Phallic, the long shape penetrated her thoughts…. She imagined how enjoyable a fast, hard penetration could be for a ready and willing recipient. Not that she knew for sure about the 'enjoyability' quotient of such penetration. It was all speculation on her part. Regrettably, Gerard, her trusty toothbrush, hadn't been up to that sort of punchy prowess. She lifted her hand and trailed a finger along the gadget, pristine in its rubber and plastic glory. She picked it up.

She'd never been able to convince Sheldon that any penetration of a sexual nature, penile or not, would be a good thing. In fact, after 15 years of coitus being 'off the table', she realised coitus was never going to be on the table - or on the bed, or on the floor, and definitely not on her boyfriend's favourite spot on the couch. With Sheldon, she'd almost given up hope of a satisfactory sexual union, be it fast, slow, hard, gentle… Consensual or not! For procreation or pleasure!

Yes, she'd almost given up, but her biological clock had not! And what 'o'clock' did it tell her it was? A do or die-without-progeny 'o'clock', it alarmed.

Rubber squidged satisfyingly under the pressure of her squeezing fingers. Yes, this was just what she needed. She squeezed again.

Interrupting her product test, a store assistant asked, helpfully, "May I be of assistance, Ma'am? That's a popular item at this time of year."

"Is it?" Amy heard herself answer. "Then I'll take it before your stock is depleted."

As they moved to the checkout, Helpful quipped, "Nothing better than a good basting to keep your turkey moist."

Amy raised her eyebrows. She was sure there was euphemism in there somewhere, but she said, "Is that so? Well, you live and learn. Let's wrap this up then."

But Helpful hadn't quite finished with the advice, and while bagging the item, said, "Don't be afraid to give the product a good workout! The more the turkey is basted the better it will be."

Amy looked at Helpful, and considered the situation. Yes, she was cooking a festive turkey dinner, but she hadn't understood the significance of a serious basting before. "I might need two basters then," she said.

"Oh, I assure you, Ma'am, one should be enough. This turkey baster is a quality product."

"Good to know," Amy replied, "especially as I'm going to deploy it to suction up and implant my boyfriend's seed internally, after he has been suitably inspired…. Ah! Who am I kidding? After he's been suitably drugged and drunk, but not completely incapacitated by a Christmas cocktail of chemical proportions … with an umbrella on top … after the festive well-basted turkey dinner, of course."

Stunned, it was the assistant's turn for raised eyebrows!

Amy laughed and explained, "Don't worry! I've tested the procedure extensively on monkeys in my lab. Not the insemination part, of course. That would be just plain sick! But what I call the 'viagran sedation cum masturbation' method works a treat. Don't worry! I'm a doctor, a neurobiologist and, quite possibly, if I have my timing right, someone will be created … conceived..."

Helpful still had one eyebrow raised, a type of question mark.

"No one will be harmed in the process," Amy assured.

It was Helpful's turn to say, "Good to know! Well, you'll definitely need two turkey basters then. You wouldn't want to mix up the juices!"

Amy beamed at Helpful.

Helpful beamed back, happy to be making a second sale.

Discovering the correct implement, for not one, but two procedures, ensured a happy Amy. As she exited the store with a light step, she thought, don't you just love it when a plan comes together? She was glad she'd decided to take matters into her own hands. Because deep down inside, she knew she was up against it.

She was up against the clock.

The End


End file.
